Thawing Out

The temperature rose above 32 this weekend, so I got out and about a bit. Here are some of my finds for the weekend:

1. The German Specialties Store on Sheridan. I tried a bit of blood and tongue meat and picked up an aluminum tube of mustard and a pound of german sausage links. After the holiday season, I'm going back and having the lady there make me a sandwich.

2. The Walgreens Cosmetics Counter. I got to try out that Zeno device on a pulsing boil on my cheek. It worked so well, my cheek was smooth and the only evidence of an issue was a pink dot on my cheek. Also check out the eyeliners by Jordana. I picked up 2 kajal kohl liners for $3 and they're better than any liner I've ever obtained from a department store.

3. Borders. Books are 20% off for Christmas. I made a mental note to request some David Sedaris books. Amy Sedaris has a delightful book on entertaining that's worth checking out as well.

4. Central Illinois Ceramics in Creve Couer. Granted, I'm pimping out the place I go to work on projects, but they've just put out some really cute stuff for both painting and purchase. May I recommend the cute little snowballs?

Jawbreaker

I'm getting fitted for a mouthguard next week because I've resumed grinding my teeth in my sleep. As a result, I've been experiencing a bit of jaw pain and have bitten the hell out of my cheeks, which have subsequently become infected.

Ew.

Thanksgiving Weekend Survival: The Supplies

1. A Copy of "Stumbling on Happiness"
2. A sports bottle filled with cranberry juice, vodka, and lime. I call this concoction "HAPPY THANKSGIVING"
3. Another sports bottle filled with a white russian. I call this concoction "coping mechanism."
4. Classic rock cds
5. A cell phone with text messaging capability

...and all of this is just to get me TO Branson in quasi-fine form.

What I Used to Look Good Today

Oscar Blandi Jasmine Hair Serum
Aveda Pure Abundance Hair Potion
Murray's Pomade
Chi Flat Iron

Almay Skin Clearing Makeup in Buff
Smashbox Brow Tech in Taupe
Bare Escentuals Mineral Veil
Nars the Multiple in Maldives
Cover Girl Perfect Blend Eyeliner in Black Brown
Savannah Bee Company Mint Julep Lip Balm

Dockers Khakis
Mossimo White Long Sleeve Tshirt
Cat Logo Navy, Brown, and White Polo
Brown Buckled Shoes
Brown Belt
Brown and Red Skull and Crossbone Socks

The Bathroom Rant

(Ladies...this is for you.)

When you go into a bathroom, there are certain items that you can't help but assume will always be present. Toilet paper, door on the stall...tampons in the machine. That last one - that may be more of a hope than something that can be safely assumed.

This morning, I was over in E checking out the fume hoods and getting high off the gnarly aromatic compound smell permeating throughout a block of labs when I felt that unmistakeable...feeling that I should excuse myself for (lack of better words) the dam had broken and it was time to go sandbag.

Rushing through the deceptively confusing square that is the building, I found my way back to the restrooms and made a beeline for the machine. At first, I attributed my inability to get the quarters into the machine to my own issues, but then realized that when the machine is out, it's nice enough to plug the money hole. But if the money hole is plugged, the machine is...out. Fortunately, there was another lady in there (and she had a purse with her! And most girls keep in their purses...) and she was able to help me out. Rejoice! All was right with the world - until I left the restroom and then became irritated that there were no feminine supplies to be found in the restrooms. And lately, when I'm irritated with the facility, I call in a work order to have it fixed. (It's easier and more productive than merely complaining.) So I pull out my cell phone and call...

Work Order Desk: May we help you? (Grrr - a dude answered!)
Me: Please dispatch housekeeping to RR1 in E.
Desk: What is the issue?
Me: The lady supply machine needs to be refilled.
Desk: RR1?
Me: RR1.
Desk: All right, we'll send someone over. (Yay!) What is your name? (D'oh!) What is your telephone number? (I'd like to see the customer satisfaction survey on this one.)

So I provided the information and resumed to my morning activity of huffing out of the paint lab fume hood. I didn't think much more of this until later this afternoon when I'm standing in line in the cafeteria and my phone rings.

The conversation went something like this:

Housekeeping: This is housekeeping lady. I understand there's an issue with RR1 in E.
Me: Yes.
Housekeeping: The machine is out, you say?
Me: Yes.
Housekeeping: Which machine?
Me: ...(quietly, keep in mind, I'm in the lunch line with other people standing around) sanitary supplies.
Housekeeping: What is it out of? (You've got to be kidding me!)
Me: Everything.
Housekeeping: So it's the tampon machine?
Me: That is correct.
Housekeeping: No it's not.
Me: Yes it is. I checked earlier.
Housekeeping: Are you sure? I filled one earlier.
Me: Did you fill that one? It's in RR1.
Housekeeping: I'll check.
Me: Thank you. Have a good day. (Hangs up)

*sigh*

A couple of hours later, after I had pretty much forgotten about all of this, I was in the bathroom in my building. I like the one by the vending machines - it's quiet in there and not a high traffic area. After washing my hands, I turned to use the lotion dispenser, which is at shoulder height for me (I'm 5'7") and I depressed the lever so it'd dispense and *squish* a high powered stream of milky liquid shot out, banked off the palm of my hand, and nailed me across the chest. The lotion dispenser money shot me!

So I've spent the remainder of my day walking around with milky white spots all over my dark red shirt.

(And I can't think of a better way to end this entry, so I'll leave you with the mental image of me walking around covered in dried, white goo and my attempts at hiding it as I maneuver through the remainder of my day.)

Top 10 Ways to Neglect a Blog

1. Travel. Go places like Kentucky and Metropolis.
2. Work. A lot. Have a day where you work from 5:30-8:00 and then go back the next morning at 3. On the upside, I got to eat a lot of pizza.
3. Go Celebrate Accolades from Management. Why celebrate the Sparky? See #2.
4. Start reading everything in sight. I like magazines and books on gunfights.
5. Start sleeping at night.
6. Go see movies. May I recommend The Prestige
7. Perform a 5S event on your house. The 5 Ss are: sort...shine...sustain...I forget what the other 2 Ss are. Regardless, it's a weekend of putting things into containers and reducing home inventory. I'll show you my cabinet of organized and quasi-labeled foodstuff. It's rather impressive.
8. Go to a Hockey Game. Watch the Rivermen lose. A lot. (But not lose so badly that we can't redeem our ticket stubs for quarter pounders at McDonalds.)
9. Diet. I lost 6 pounds last week.
10. Home Improvement Projects. I assembled a two-shelf organizer this evening. It now holds shoes and a laundry basket filled with purses. I think I'll go back to Tar-jay and get a few more and some laminated particle board cubes and transform my sliding door, standard issue apartment closet into a California-Closet. And if not in this apartment, where ever I live next...

The Joy that is Happy Hour

Old Chicago has cheap appetizers Monday - Friday from 3:00 - 6:00 pm.

Tonight, Nicole and I partook in chips and queso (go ahead and pronounce it kee-so, everyone else does), pepperoni rolls, and a personal pizza with pepperoni and sausage. Each dish was $2.99! $2.99! World Beer Tour, Deep Pan Pizza, Happy Hour. Old Chicago may just be my preferred place to go in Peoria for unhealthy sustinance.

Travels

I started the month of September in Kentucky, was in Arizona in the middle of the month, and woke up to October in the state of Wisconsin. Some highlights from Arizona and Wisconsin:


Arizona (Sept 10 - Sept 14):
* Complimentary Happy Hour at the Embassy Suites and drinking with cute Border Patrol Guys
* The Desert Museum and putting my hand on a cactus
* Karichimaka, a mexican restaurant in an old house that dates back to 1949
* Riding around in 793 mining trucks and feeling the power of a C175 engine rumbling beneath my feet
* An asian massage at a parlor...in the mall. Happy ending? I'll never tell ;)
* Groves of peacan trees
* Green Valley Monsoons
* Driving I-10 with the windows down, listening to the hard rock radio station
* Floating on my back in a pool, watching lightning illuminate the night sky (Gorgeous)

Wisconsin (Sept 29 - Oct 1):
* 5 hour car ride/visit with Mr. Jeff
* Stopping at the Wisconsin border for a photo op
* Driving through Madison
* Bowling 3 games over 100
* Beating the boys at basketball
* Watching Bryan get mauled by a drunken woman
* Punting a football into a dog
* Bonfire
* Silvercryst Supper Club
* The Cheese Chalet
* Mr. Jeff

Obligatory Update

Yes, I'm alive. No, I haven't been eaten by bears.

I don't log on to the computer much in the evenings these days because I do believe my desk monkey ways are cutting into my ability to enjoy recreational computing. Furthermore, reality > virtual reality and aside from having the most awesome boy ever to help occupy my time, the weather has been g-o-r-g-e-o-u-s! That's right g-o-r-e-g-e-o-u-s! (B-a-n-a-n-a-s!)

I'm getting ready to dive right into some big projects at work because if I want to be a , I need to start acting like one. This means I'm about to get up close and personal with efficiency and project management. See, there's more time gone right there. You should all send me messages of support, really - and preferably at gmail.

I'm off for hot cocoa with the world's sexiest engineer and his lackeys. Peace!

They Don't Make Boys Like They Used To, So I'll Just Have to Get an Old School Model

I went on a date today. It was awesome. Here's the highlight reel:

* Being greeted with 3 roses
* Lunch at a locally owned restaurant (you know, one with character)
* Walking around Morton PumpkinFest (amused at strongman competition, an award winning hand carved wooden fish, laughing at how the purpose of holding hands is to clothsline small children)
* A Trip on the spinning, flipping, rotating in a cage wheel ride
* Mini Golf in East Peoria (complete with logarithmic scoring to accomodate my terrible time on the greens)
* Grandview View Drive
* Swinging in the park
* Sharing a turkey sandwich for dinner and sitting on the balcony
* Hours and hours of enjoying each others' company

So now I've officially decided that I've crossed over from amused to smitten.

[22:18] wings76fan: I mean ... c'mon ... I hung out with you today ... you have to register pretty high on the awesomeness scale for that
[22:18] K_D_117: so how's this awesomeness scale work?
[22:19] wings76fan: well... it's a complicated formula
[22:19] wings76fan: it takes your interests
[22:19] wings76fan: your wittiness
[22:19] wings76fan: the ability to laugh and smile
[22:19] wings76fan: factors in a intelligence
[22:19] wings76fan: and a fudge factor for general good looks
[22:19] wings76fan: and somehow, charm gets worked in
[22:20] wings76fan: and i've built a regression into minitab to predict how awesome you are
[22:20] wings76fan: and in case you're wondering.... on a scale of 1 to 10.... you were definitely in double digits :)


Oooooh - I think I finally found a good one up here. A very, very, very good one.

Tucson Bound

I'll be chilling in the desert for the next few days. Still debating whether or not to take my personal phone with me. Right now, I'm leaning towards 'no' as turning off for a while can be good. I'm also leaning toward finding a way to stay out there because desert living is good too. Taking pictures with the digicam and riding around (and maybe driving) some of the largest mining trucks on earth. Going to Tombstone tomorrow afternoon as pilgrimage to honor some of the BAMFs of history. I'm coming back in boots, a hat, and with some sort of preserved desert creature. <3

Cleaning House: Some Observations

Crack open a beer and put on Dawn of the Dead. It's time to clean house!

Tonight's house cleaning project has...gone in spurts. Arrived home around 6:30 with some seafood salad from Avanti's and determination to clean up this place. Weeks of running in and out have taken their toll on the cleanliness level of this place. A brief list of casualties: pile of clothes in the chair - they come of the the dryer and go on the chair, from there they are supposed to be put on hangers and go into the closet, but hangers are for sissies, right? Overflowing trash can - but seriously, you can only put so much, or 5 items, in a 13 gallon can. But nothing else will fit under my sink and early on I learned that you hide your trashcan. Don't ask, it was just something I was told and now follow blindly. Hidden kitchen table - 5 weeks worth of Chemical and Engineering News magazines. They come weekly which is awesome because I'll always have something to read. Not so awesome because, well, it comes weekly. Decaying plant matter in the crisper of my fridge. Broccoli...yeah, I'm good for a while on this vegetable. But yeah, you can see from the aforementioned examples that it was time to clean.

The folks are coming up tomorrow. This is added incentive. I had this in mind when I pulled the drip pans off the stove and tossed them in a sink full of hot water. My refrigerator has been thoroughly wiped out and restocked with bottled water and red bull. The present contents of my fridge: 2.5 cases of water, 18 cans of Red Bull, a door full of assorted sauces and condiments, 3 varieties of olives (blue cheese, jalepeno, and pimento stuffed), and a drawer full of cheese. Tomorrow, when I wake up, the (new!) sheets will be pulled out of the dryer and I'm going to run a dust cloth over the furniture and a vacuum over the floor. If this were two weeks ago, I'd do this tonight, but Mr. Brazillian Techno Music ("Are you playing DDR in here ?!?") departed and has been replaced by Mr. and Mrs. Parents with another Kid on the way...wait, were they in the left or right unit? Regardless, I'm tired and want to concentrate on drinking more water and watching Dawn of the Dead.

Earlier, I tried cleaning with Arrested Development Season One, but it was all too easy to curl up in the chair and catch up on The Bluths. Hence, I decided to get in my monthly viewing of Dawn of the Dead. When I first moved to Murray and didn't have a lot to do on Friday nights, I'd clean the house (complete with wiping down the woodwork and scrubbing the grout) while soft core on Skinemax played in the background. I'd do the same here, but I don't have skinemax. And my only other option is that copy of Shaved Pussy Vol. 1 I've got laying around, but I'm afraid that would be too jarring to provide the right amount of ambience for proper house cleaning. Speaking of said movie, I'm thinking of getting rid of it. It's free to anyone that wants it. Post here if you want this porn. It's been gently used and publicly ridiculed. You'll dig it the most.

Go with God

I twisted my ankle running across the quad today. The pain didn't even register until I was back at my desk because I was so elated at finally feeling free and the preoccupation that people were looking at me and saying "Who is that idiot running across the lawn?" But it's just that sometimes it feels so damn good to run and feel the wind in my hair and the earth passing by beneath my feet.

I started cleaning and redecorating things around my house and room last night. After I get my room just so, I'm sealing it off to the rest of the world for a while. I need a temple, solace from the world, and something that is mysterious...though until I get the rest of the clothes up off the floor, what the floor looks like is mysterious enough. The first addition was a cross above the door to ward off the presence of evil. The second being a fire extinguisher to put out whatever demon that bursts into flames upon attempting entry into my temples.

On a whim, I decided to get a haircut tonight. It's been a while as I've been trying to grow out my hair. No more side swept bangs or layers that accentuate the hugeness of my head. Yes, I've been trying to cut down on the self deprecation because I'm starting to remember how awesome I used to be/still am? The other night, I called myself a moped while talking to someone on the phone and I (would like to have?) heard sadness in his response that I'm not. I'm not a moped...a tricycle maybe, but not a moped. Vroom vroom. But the hair looks good. And I could correlate all but 2 of my haircuts this year to run ins with certain people. When did I start grooming to cheer myself up? Whatever happened to booze, hookers, and crack?

Leaving for Kentucky tomorrow afternoon. Thankgoodness for going somewhere to breathe. I'm counting the days until I can have a cabin and a hound dog. I'm counting the minutes until I can remember what it feels like to hug people I love.

The Tuesday Three

1. Grandpa! is doing better and will be going home from the hospital tomorrow. He'll be on blood thinners and may be moving up to Springfield, which will make it easier to see him more frequently.
2. I'm getting an x-ray on my arm tomorrow morning because I got hit with an explosion resistent test cell door today. At first I was cool with an ice pack, but my supervisor wants to be sure that I didn't fracture my arm. Heavy duty doors under massive amounts of negative pressure are dangerous things.
3. That's about it, really. It's pretty nice out. Kind of chilly. Yeah, that was my Tuesday.

It's Sharing Time

Here are several things I'm preoccupied with lately:

1. My grandpa is in the hospital.
2. My grandpa may be having surgery as soon as tomorrow.
3. My grandpa is nearly 90 and has blockages.
4. My grandpa may have to be taken to Springfield to have the procedure.
5. My grandpa is in the hospital...

Things to Consider...

I picked up that Jenny Lewis and the Watson Twins cd this afternoon. I'm three tracks in and it's quite lovely. In the late 80s, I had grown accustomed to Jenny Lewis as that awesome girl who woo'd Fred Savage in The Wizard, but man was it a pleasant surprise to have her clear, sweet voice woo me through the speakers. Very country flavored and that appeals to me.

And when not receiving eargasms ala Jenny Lewis, I've been pondering the concept of "punishment." I fear what started as extreme effort of putting on a brave face and using my wounding wit to form a shield from all that causes me to not sleep and ache in the belly is out of control. It's self defense, that urge to make someone else feel as insignificant as they made you feel, turned destructive force. But what's one to do when the urge to attempt to inflict emotional punishment becomes this out of control monster. My brain is practically screaming an invite for reconnection but my mouth says such flippant, rude things. Things that I used to think as joking, but can't anymore when I can hear the daggers in my voice. How do we learn to stop stabbing when it feels so much better to hug? This is me being introspective about how caring isn't a sign of weakness and how I just want to say sorry for being such an axe wound and that I miss people. Especially the ones in my own back yard. Or front yard, depending on which direction you are facing.

And when not receiving eargasms or being introspective about people over yonder, I'm hung up on wines lately. Went to Jonah's this afternoon to help with a blind date. I just happened to "run into" a friend over drinks and a plate of shrimp an hour before she waited to meet Mr. Mystery Man. Should hear more about this tomorrow. Speaking of meeting mystery men, the days until Speed Dating are counting down fast. I used to joke about it being a chance to be rejected by 15 guys in 2 hours rather than one slowly and painfully over the course of a few months. Mom said that I should view it as a chance to choose from 15 guys over 2 hours...and that I need to quit being such a negative nancy. So I'm picking out outfits and deciding on a drink and trying to figure out where to get a bell I can bring when I want them to bring me a new fellow.

I survived August 22nd. Someone shat in the floor at work today. I've lost 2.7 pounds since Thursday. Pinot grigio is good wine. And that's all I have to say about today.

Banjo Music on NPR and Other Things I'm Digging Today

My favorite part about driving downstate would definitely have to be the seemingly never ending supply of blue grass and bayou music on 91.3 WUIS Springfield. I could rock out to this music for days at a time. It makes me want to go get a cabin in the woods and enjoy the fall as God intended - sitting on a porch, in a rocking chair, whittling something, drinking whiskey spiked tea, smoking my pipe, and shooting at trespassers. Perhaps some day when I'm old and gray, I'll use the money I sold my good years for to get myself a cabin, a jar for sun tea, a rifle, and a hounddog who will be called 'Ol Smokey.

I'm also rather enamoured with my new blue suede shoes that I purchased for occasions requiring me to look presentable. This means I will be wearing them every day.

The new and improved Gordmans in Springfield in pretty sweet. Last March (or was it April), the store was eaten by the tornado that swept through Springfield. This evening, the store looked exactly as it did when it opened. Striped socks, a bottle of Blvgari perfume, and a celtic cross to keep demons away were purchased.

Corn dogs are currently high on my list of beloved items. I had my first one in quite a while at the State Fair on Friday evening. That night, I also took a ride across the fair, 40 feet up in the air, on the skytram. Once I made the mental calculation that I'd die instantly should the tram cables fail, I spent the rest of the ride trying to enjoy myself...and actually succeeded. Mind of matter. Mind over that nasty, nasty threat of gravity.

Finally, The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past is rocking my world. Gameboy SP for the win. Level 6 kicking my butt. Not so much.

Banjos, Blvgari, Corn Dogs, Video Games. These are the things that make my world turn.

Obligatory Update

I made an impromptu trip home this weekend. I packed and fled my home in 12 minutes, and this included two trips downstairs to get all my stuff into the car. I even remembered my golf shoes. Didn't make it home with socks or a contact lens case, but one can argue that the best road trips start with "I left my house in 12 minutes."

So why does one leave their house in 12 minutes, spur of the moment. Officially: I was fleeing from the mob. Unofficially: I got Peoria'd out. I'm not sure I like it up here anymore and these days, it doesn't take much to send me running for the city limits with quivering lip. Being let down by yet another person yet again sent me road tripping. Having my priorities out of whack sent me home yet again. My obliterated self esteem sent me packing, yet again.

Driving is a great way to clear the mind and devise plans. That doesn't work as well when you spend part of your trip yelling into a cell phone about how you'd almost rather be in Missouri and contemplating driving off a bridge. But then, somewhere past Springfield, I remembered that I had driven over my last bridge for the trip, so living another day was the only viable option. And then I sent text messages. I find myself sending to usual suspects and am begining to wonder if these lifetime updates aren't so much updates as requests to be rescued. I always thought that I was the hero of my own story but at the end of it all, maybe I'm just a girl in need of rescue. So if you're reading this, please come rescue me and we'll run off someplace sunny and not Peoria and live happily ever after...or until you get bored with me and cast me aside. Either way, I'm sure it'll be fun while it lasted. Yeah, rescue...I rest my case.

Mostly, I debated getting a haircut. The layers are out of control. Funny thing is, whenever I threaten to bob my hair, it does something adorable. My hair is like that worthless dog that pees on the rug repeatedly and when threatened with euthanization, thwarts a burglar. It lives another day.

Home was good and though I tried to put on a brave face, I ended up bursting into tears upon seeing my parents and crawled into bed with mom and spent the evening crying myself to sleep long after mom fell asleep and started snoring (which is okay because I snore too). Sometime in the night, I went downstairs and checked my email and started to blog about my satisfaction with being a constant option and after thought, but I navigated away from the page and lost my post. See, even the internet doesn't want to hear me whine and bitch. I took it as a cosmic sign to quit being such a little bitch and went back to bed.

Saturday morning was good - went to the grocery store and fruit market and hung out with Grandpa for a bit. Couldn't really understand what he was saying, but we had a good visit anyway. Found out that my uncle has been at Barnes Hospital for 3 weeks with the diabetes but he'll be coming home soon and no longer works and will be spending lots of time with his brand new grandbaby, born a few days ago at a healthy 7-11! After our visit, we all went home, cooked lunch and had several stiff drinks. Actually, we had Light Corona with lime, but to me and my reduced caloric intake (minus 20 lbs in 7 weeks), A beer is a lot of alcohol. Then I fell asleep in the chair watching a Rambo movie. Woke up, grilled out, took food up to Grandpa, who was more coherent than in the morning, and went back home. End of Saturday.

Today...steak and eggs for breakfast. Talked to Mom about what to do with the rest of my life the whole way back up to Springfield and then stopped in Lincoln for gas and Red Bull (sugarless) on the second leg of my trip. Yeah, that was my weekend. Bored yet? Still reading? This week will be better. I'm enrolling in a class for something to do. I wanted to take a Calculus class (yes, I'm a dork), but can't find one that is in the evenings. Right now, I'm either going to take Spanish, Basic House Wiring, Surveying (weekends), or Architectural Rendering. Flexing my mental muscle will be good for me. At least it's something to do.

Oh we've got big trouble. Right here in River City...

The Roof is on Fire?

I woke up with a start this morning when I could have sworn my smoke detectors were going off! Bolting upright in bed around 5:19 in the morning and no glasses, all my blurry visioned self could perceive was glowing light coming from the kitchen/living room area. I couldn't smell smoke, but I thought I saw fire!

Upright, throwing off the covers and putting on my glasses, I realized there was no smoke in the house and the sounding of the alarms had stopped. There was no fire, but rather a mixture of morning glow seeping through the living room blinds and the golden glow of the light above the sink that rarely gets turned off at night. No fire. No smoke. No sound.

I tiptoed (why?) into the hall, where I nervously glared at the smoke detector. My sleep clouded mind couldn't remember where all in the house I had others, but I had just enough logic in tact to know that building codes require them in bedrooms. So after walking across the living room, feeling the door handle before opening and peering into the stairway - no fire, I turned to the door leading onto the balcony...felt at handle, gingerly opened door - no fire, I returned to the hall where I once again glared at the smoke detector. Turned to my left, felt door knob then turned, peered - no fire.

After finding sufficient evidence that the house wasn't burning down, I swapped out the battery, turned on the tv to the morning news, and crawled back into bed. Warm bed where just a few minutes before, I had been dreaming of some cruise ship trip from hell, populated with people from work, and we were all doing some lame dance before I had been jarred awake by the alarm. While not entirely sure of the dream specifics, I mustn't have been enjoying myself as the thought of the alarms signifying the ship sinking came as a welcome notion. And I closed my eyes and listened to the morning anchors clumsily making morning banter. Tom Tucker and Trisha Takinawa....

And once again I awoke suddenly when I heard...the mornign birthday greeting music signifying it's 15 'til the new hour...of seven. Crap.

Apparently in my false alarm fire rush, I began to unplug all of my alarm clocks (I'm down to two clock radios and a cell phone these days). Either I was going to save them from certain doom or thought that unplugging them would stop the fire. Sleepy logic is fuzzy. And I was out the door less than 30 minutes after waking up - showered, shampooed, dressed, and painted for the day. My last day at this particular job.

So tomorrow I'll report to some place exciting and new...not really, but at least it'll be different. I need a fresh start and I'm glad I fell into one that has different tasks and more money. I once said that I hope that someday I can hate my new job as much as I hate the one I had. Well, I didn't entirely mean that. I didn't hate this job as much as I thought I did. I hated some of the aspects of it and thought that I hated some of the people that I work with. But I don't. I've seen it as one big learning experience that has fundamentally changed changed the person I am. I've learned to be unapologetically directive and relish the ability to get things done. But I've also realized how important it is to not let those attributes become detractors and that the ability to build alliances and knowing who to call just as if not more important that the knowledge and ability housed in my brain and body. And I am newly amazed at my own ability to work and live wounded and do it well. I'm forged of the hard stuff, with a creamy nougat center. And I'm pretty awesome...even if some mornings I wake up thinking my house is on fire.

A is for Alpaca!

Saturday, Matt and I made a journey into outer Chillicothe in search of alpacas...

This story actually begins a few months ago, when I saw Sherri, the Alpaca Lady, on the morning news talking about AlpacaFest and the many uses for these wonderful little animals. Instantly, alpacas were added to the list of creatures that I can look at and immediately smile. Sometimes at work, I'll just look at alpacas if I'm feeling grouchy or if others are having a lame day, I'll email them pictures of alpacas. Yes, this whole alpaca thing has become sort of an obsession.

So why am I so crazy about alpacas? Aside from their cuteness and charm, they're sweet natured and gentle. The alpca is also a useful creature and is soft and comforting to the touch. Finally, they're kind of goofy looking. It's another one of those instances where God shows a sense of humor by creating something so charming and funny looking.

This whole alpaca obsession came full circle on Saturday, having made a trip to an area alpaca farm in order to see these creatures up close and personal. This trip was also quite educational as we had over an hour to just ask questions and learn. Alpacas need relatively little space and only cost about $200/animal/year to feed and maintain. In this part of the country, they need regular worm treatments to avoid parasites that can bore through the alpaca stomach and into the spinal cord. Furthermore, just off the breeding and the fleece, you can get a nice return on investment.

I'm not saying this is something that I'll definitely do in the future, but I am toying with the idea of perhaps having a couple of alpacas running around one of these days. Maybe some land, a herding dog or two and alpacas. That would be nice.

The Battle of Peoria

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peoria_War

The Peoria War was an armed conflict between the U. S. Army and the Native American tribes of the Potawatomi and the Kickapoo that took place in the Peoria County, Illinois area, near the current location of the city of Peoria, from September 19 to October 21, 1813.

It must be noted that the Native American tribe of the Peoria was not involved in this conflict. Rather, its name comes from the location of the events, which had originally received its denomination from that of the tribe.

The Peoria War was closely related to the larger scale Tecumseh's War and the War of 1812, while essentially circumscribed to actions within the Peoria area. It also ended after the Battle of the Thames and the death of the Shawnee leader Tecumseh on October 5, 1813, which is generally considered as the ending date of the Native American involvement in the War of 1812.

Theater Etiquette

Thursday afternoon, I decided to catch an afternoon 'The Break Up.' The most entertaining thing about this movie was the couple that decided to engage in...congress during the showing of this film.

I went to the 5:50 show after weighing in (down 2 more lbs) and grabbing some dinner (Quizno's Chicken Ceasar salad - yum). In my typical solo theater outing ritual, I purchased a ticket and then grabbed a medium theater-sized Diet Coke before making my way into the movie. For the first 10-15 minutes of the movie, I was the only person in the theater. I was singing along with the previews, slurping my soda, and had my feet on the back of the seat beacuse as the only person in there, I could. Having the place to myself made me feel like P. Diddy. If P. Diddy watched movies as bad as The Break Up.

Eventually, this gal entered and then proceeded to the back of the auditorium. I mentally noted that I must not be the only girl in town goes to the movies by herself to cheer up. A few minutes later, a guy walked up the stairs and went to sit with her, and once again, I was the losery single watching a lackluster film about breaking up. Did I mention this movie wasn't great?

Fifty five minutes into the movie, my attention is pulled away from the trainwreck on screen by the unmistakeable sound of heavy petting. I turn my head a bit and glance over the back of the seat and get a visual confirmation that the folks in the back are sucking face like woah. Nice. Back to watching the movie, until 10 minutes later and I'm hearing humping. I'll spare the details of the sounds leading me to believe that there was sexxing going on in the back of the theater, but trust me, I could tell. I glanced back again and both had disappeared into the aisle. So I began to laugh. A lot. And then I texted friends to tell them what was going on.

Granted, it is rude to use a cell phone during a movie, but I figured that if they could engage in sexual congress in the theater, I could use my phone.

I did consider what I would do upon encountering them as I left the theater, but I never got the chance to avert eye contact or boldly offer them napkins. The ending was horrific and my bladder was at maximum capacity, so I eschewed the resolution for a trip to the rest room. I pretty much made it. Did I mention The Break Up is not worth your time? At least I have an interesting story about people going at it 10 feet behind my head.

Steak Through My Heart

It appears that I'll be going to a Steak Dinner Party where I'm to "bring my significant other." Ha! I suppose I get two steaks because of late, I can't help but shake the feeling that I may, perhaps, indeed be utterly undateable. And now I'll have to further suffer the indignity of having to tell people that I'll throw in a steak to sweeten the deal. I feel nauseous at the thought of having to offer red meat to someone to make an evening with me and my crazy coworkers seem bearable. Nauseasous at both the prospect of asking someone out and naseasous at the thought of having an evening with me and a free meal be not enough for even a maybe.

I Need Visitors, STAT

If there's anyone out there that's not from Peoria that wants to visit, next week would be the best time to do so. I'm homesick and need a care package with arms and legs. I didn't mean for that to come out as dirty as it did. Come see me and I'll take you to get stir fry and go watch Clerks II.

My Trip to the Oriental Grocery Store

This afternoon, I ventured downtown so that I could check out the oriental grocery store just yonder from Bradley. Of late, I've found the far east to be quite sexy, so I've been seeking out most things oriental. Today's trip only really served to whet my appetite as I was hoping I'd find so much more than I did.

Today's Oriental Purchases:

1. Spinach noodles
2. Duck soup sauce
3. Vegetarian duck
4. Navy blue, decorated chopsticks
5. Cucumber cleansing lotion
6. Canned mackeral

Save You

To the best of my knowledge, I am now certified in CPR - the art and science of bringing people back from the dead.

If you choose to have a medical emergency, I assure you that it's all right to have it in my presence, for it's my policy to attempt to save the life of anyone who has ever read my blog.

We'll see how the next eleven weeks of First Responder certification go, but I'm sure I'll be freaked out and upset multiple times before all of this is over. Yet, at the same time, I'm pretty excited about being able to help, even if it's until real help gets there.

However, I still can't get over what we were told tonight. "I can never recall performing CPR and NOT breaking someone's ribs."

Yikes

I.Hate.Baboons.

This afternoon, I was camped out on the couch, od'ing on The National Geographic channel. One of the shows (Hunter/Hunted) was about baboons attacking people in South Africa and this case in the northern region, where an old, male baboon grabbed a lady's 3 month old and held it hostage. The lady and a neighbor were trying to scare it away, but the baboon bit the baby and threw it down before running off. It is a tactic of the baboon to take the babies of their advarsaries hostage during combat. Also, biting the baby on the head is the baboon's preferred method of killing young, as they have really sharp and prominant front fangs. On the southern cape of the country, the baboon population has grown brazen around humans and will run up and mug them for food. I watched footage of a baboon stealing a woman's purse, rummaging through it, and throwing it at her upon discovering it did not contain food.

So based on the fact that baboons 1) bite babies, 2) take hostages, 3) can run 35 miles per hour, 4) mug tourists, and 5) smell awful, the verdict is that baboons are awful, awful creatures.

Romance is Dead.

On the way to work this morning, I was rocking out to that "Promiscuous" song...the one by Nelly Furtado and Timbaland. Suddenly, I realized how much songs about pursuing a paramour have degraded over the past 30 years. We've gone from you look "Wonderful Tonight" and "Unforgettable" that's what you are to blah, blah, baby I wanna tap that and maybe call you tomorrow. Gone are the days of candy, flowers, and courting. These days it's all about wham, bam, up, leave, I'll call you when it's convenient for me. ...Did I just write the next great love song of the 2000s?

So comes the age old question - which came first? Was it the demise of romance or the songs illustrating it?

I'm going to blame the "pussification" of the American male. It all started there. It takes a lot of balls to be a real man. Real men will think freely and have original thoughts and go where their heart leads them, not follow the trends and feel like they have to score with a ton of chicks and treat them like objects to be men. Those aforementioned are boys...stupid, fearful ones at that. Problem is, the ladies have endured repeated trauma from said boys and have resorted to tactics like 'dating like men' as a coping method. My theory is that it doesn't work and it creates a destructive cycle that usually goes (on case-by-case basis) girl gets hurt, resolves to date like a man, becomes 'promiscuous girl' and meets 'promiscuous boy,' lather, rinse, repeat.

Where does it stop?

I'm sure I could further elaborate on this symptom of downfall of society, but rather than dwell on the bad, I'm going to roll over and get some beauty sleep in the event that I encounter true, handsome, gentleman tomorrow...a free thinker that utilizes that seldom remembered organ that below the neck but above the belt. A man of principle, respect, and intellect. Hopefully he won't be another wolf in disguise.


..."chivalry is dead, but you're still kind of cute" indeed.

Well, Which One Shall It Be?

...Chocolate or Vanilla?

5 Down

In the past week, I've lost 5.8 lbs. That puts me 5.8 lbs closer to world domination. Several people have asked me what I'm going to do when I reach my goal weight. Typical answers for this question include things like "I'm going to go on a shopping spree for smaller clothes!" and "I'm going to eat that food I couldn't eat while on my diet!"

My rebuttal to both is as follows: 1) I will be replacing my tents and cloaks as I progress because ill fitting clothes are not as attractive as ones that fit and if I toss out my phat-pants, I'll be to the point of no return. 2) Pigging out defeats the purpose of having gone on a diet in the first place. Besides, I consider this project less of a diet and more of a lifestyle makeover. So here it is, the 5 things I'm going to do once I'm half the girl I used to be:

1. Put on a bikini. Pose with a sports car. Post the pictures on the internet.
2. Enter a wet tshirt contest. (Don't tell my Mom!)
3. Adopt layered wife beaters as my unofficial uniform for the summer.
4. Burn my girdle.
5. Find out what my feet actually look like.

Weekly Obsessions

1. Big Trouble in Little China
2. Painting decorative lightswitch covers
3. My new framed picture of a ram painted on glass (Goodwille, I love ye!)
4. Cucumbers and hummus
5. Cover Girl makeup (the subliminal advertising of America's Next Top Model has gotten to me; and the Lash Exact mascara is my new do-it-daily)
6. Tina Fey
7. Drinking the skinny juice so that I may become a fearsome cage fighter

Spirit of 76

I'm presently undertaking one of my biggest projects yet. You're going to be seeing a lot less of me. Literally.

In other news, I'm at the proving grounds for training this week. (When you see me, tell me where I've been and I'll share my awesome news with you.) A lot can go through your mind when you've got your eyes fixed on a point on the wall for seventy six minutes at a time, pondering all in life that is both mysterious and in need of fixing. I've been thinking a lot about that time that I just moved out and didn't tell my roommates (though I doubt they missed me). When I was walking out the door at 2am with a bookcase under my arm and one came home and asked me if "Y'all moving?" I simply responded "No." and had that stand as the last thing I said to either one of them. For some reason, I've always been fascinated with the idea of just vanishing into thin air. I suppose it's immature, but it could also be a good litmus test for gauging if people actually give a shit afterall. But see, that is indicative of one of my fatal flaws: A million people could be fawning all over me, but with only a select few or special one being utterly indifferent to me, I'm left doubting my personal worth and if anyone really cares at all?

And I've felt like a commodity lately and am slowly trying to come to terms with something a drunken asshole once predicting (or was it telling me what would eventually happen) coming true. There is no more need to hang out with me or even care as I have served my purpose. (And yes, I did text message my girlfriends to tell them what an asshole you are!) And yes, I've thought about this comment with both a sense of impending doom and ultimately sad resignation nearly every day for several months. And never in my life have I so actively tried to be indifferent to something or someone. I always perceived indifference as something that comes without effort, hence it being indifference. But trying to be indifferent, putting forth effort not to care has been utterly exhausting!

I suppose some good has come from not caring my life away. I've taken up a few new hobbies that I enjoy and have met some cool, new people. I've actually gotten to know my mom a bit better as a person (if she had no class she'd want to kick your ass; you should hope you never meet her) rather than just a parent and it's kind of neat to have more open dialog about things. Not caring gave me the balls to get up and do something.

So tomorrow, I'll go back and sit in that drafty room with the uncomfortable chairs and stare at a different point on the wall. Only tomorrow I'll be thinking about all the things over which to give a damn. Another seventy six somethings at a time.

She's a Hoser

Today I learned how to make special application hose. First, you cut the hose to the needed length and then you place the cut end into the measuring device and make a mark to show where the fitting should be placed. Next, you lubricate the end of the hose and you attach the fitting. After that, you place the die and the ring into the crimper and insert the hose, fitting affixed end up. You'll then pull the lever to apply pressure to crimp the fitting into the house. Finally, use the digital calipers to measure the fitting and compare it to the specified size chart glued to the side of the crimper.

The Evil Eye

Yet again my eye is infected. But unlike the last times I've suffered from such affliction, this time I actually took medicinal measures to speed the clearing of the problem and hopefully prevent future occurrences; I went to the eye doctor.

One hour, two numb eyes, and a presciption for salve later, I was on my way to ye olde drug store to fill ye olde prescription. I was more than happy to wait on said prescription as one of my favorite quirky activities (as some of you may know) is to walk down every aisle in health and beauty and inspect and smell all the soaps, lotions, face washes, shampoos, conditions, assorted beautifying goos and to read the packing of most of the makeups and other assorted beauty enhancers. Despite my impending need for new mascara and eyeliner as my others are now casualties of bacterial contamination, I left the store without any such items. Afterall, I have a week left until I can once again sport eye makeup (or contact lenses), so there's plenty of time to contemplate said purchase. Eyeliner will, of course, be the perrenial favorite Cover Girl Perfect Blend Black Brown pencil. I'm currently shopping for a new mascara though. Maybelline no longer makes my Illegal Length and the price of that cool japanese lash-tube mascara is staggering. Any suggestions would be much appreciated.

So I'll be spending the remainder of the week without my contacts. I'm only in hour 15 and I'm already seriously considering lasik. The sheer weight of my spectacles puts uncomfortable pressure on the tops of my ears. My depth perception is less than optimal. If I'm not careful where I place my glasses, they could catch the sunlight wrong and start a fire. But I wear them. Even if I weren't legally blind without them...well, that statement is reason enough to just keep them on. (On a side note, I just knocked chammomile tea onto the carpet next to my chair because I misjudged on picking up the mug next to my chair. Last night, I spilled my beer on the same spot.) There could be much worse fates than being seen in my glasses. The glasses are rather attractive and I think I look decent in them (not quite Tina Fey, not quite a bad knock off). Funny thing is, no one has really noticed that I am now bespectacled. I figured more people would notice, but perhaps I wasn't at good at hiding my myopia as I thought.

But I am Good at Painting Pottery

Checked out Central Illinois Ceramics...is that what it's called? It's in Creve Couer and it's pretty awesome. You name it, you can fire, paint, and glaze it there. I started working on a small statue of a Chinaman. While not the preferred nomenclature, figured it'd be better descriptive than referring to him as "Lo Pan," in honor of the thousand year old villian in John Carpenter's 80s movie Big Trouble in Little China. When Lo Pan's been painted and glazed, he'll keep a watchful eye on my livingroom from the top of my xbox. Upcoming projects will include some lions and bears (no tigers, oh my!) and a tea set. I saw a gigantor beer stein that I can't help but suspect would be much appreciated by someone I know. However, in all my yellow girliness, I'm curious of how I could lavish such a cool gift on someone and not get awkward reception in return. But seriously folks, the thing has wolves on it. And black forest galore. And bears - bavarian ones!

Get Back in Your Cage!

Recently, my office was moved out into the hallway, where a couple of walls and windows separate me from the rest of the world. This place is the kind of room where people can just stare at you while you work. We're on display in there. While it's a nice room, sitting in there makes me understand why monkeys in zoos throw poop at the windows.

Friday morning, I'm walking to my office when the cleaning lady waves a broom at me and shouts to me, while pointing at my office "GET BACK IN YOUR CAGE!"

And that's how I started the last day of last week.

Fermenting Jaeger

I have committed a most heinous party foul. I put a bottle of jaegermeister in THE CABINET and left if there for a year. In fairness to me, I didn't know it was there, but then again, it's jaeger so it's still unexcusable. While giving a liquor cabinet tour to my two favorite guys in P-town, I stumbled across this bottle and was quickly admonished for having it in the cabinet. "It may have deer blood in it!" So I opened the bottle to take a whiff and it fizzed. Definite bacterial action going on there. I haven't been able to bring myself to pour it down the drain yet, but drinking it is absolutely out of the question. Sad day indeed.

Blueberry Beer Heals What Ales You

Last weekend, while in Bar Harbor, Maine, I sampled a bottle of "Bar Harbor Blueberry Ale." After placing my order, I anxiously awaited the arrival of my beverage. I like beer and I like blueberries. And if there was ever a blueberry country, it's probably in Maine beacuse they grow a ton of them up there. And they are good blueberries at that. While this regional ale was rather tasty - a bit sweet, slightly berry tinged...I just couldn't get into it. Overall, it was like any other ale; I could barely detect a hint of blueberry in the after taste. However, tonight at Old Chicago, the World Beer Tour took me back to Wisconsin, where I sampled another Blueberry Ale. It was so good that it I cannot exactly recall the name of this beverage. This ale had a smooth taste and was bursting with blueberry flavor that permeated all levels of taste. Blueberry flavor popped in my mouth as soon as the ale hit my tongue. While drinking it and immediately after, I got this sense of butteriness that was comforting and different. And after the swallow, I could taste that good ale flavor. It was like drinking a pie...but way better. It appears that Wisconsin once again out-beers Maine. Anyway, blueberry ales, give them a chance. They're good as a dessert beer.

Summer Obsessions

1. Tomfoolery in the front yard.
2. The World Beer Tour
3. Running and Kickboxing
4. Books on Taoism
5. Paintings

This Changes Everything

I have an opportunity I'm thinking about taking. Regardless of what I decide to do, two things are certain: I may not leave but I'm not staying where I am, and a lot of things will change and I guess I'll just know where the chips land when the smoke clears. Oh, another certainty being that I'll be tossing out lots and lots of verbal cliches as I maneuver through decision making.

And while I will make this decision for me and only me, I can't help but wonder if this is when I stop sliding through hands like sand and begin to slide like water. See? More cliches.


In honor of cliches, enjoy some song lyrics I've been pondering lately:

"You know I can't let you slide through my hands"
"I want you to notice when I'm not around"
"It's too late tonight to drag the past out into the light"
"It won't take much for me to show my life's not over yet"
"The worst timing I ever knew. I have to go. You already know. It's a long way back home"

Windy City, or the Past Few Days

Friday: Drove up to Chicago. Arrived at hotel on Ohio street, then walked to Water Tower Place for round one of shopping. Ate at the Burrito Beach across the street and instantly fell in love. BB > Q'doba. Took a shower and tried to stay up to watch the rest of Conan in Chicago. Fell asleep during the Obama interview and missed hearing Wilco.

Saturday: Woke up and straighted hair, gathered conference materials and ventured downstairs to meet the shuttle to McCormick Place. Befriended Heather, industrial hygienist with a chemical company in Maryland. We ended up splitting a cab across town when the poor instructions to the shuttle pickup point meandered us over to Michigan Avenue. Took the course on ventilation systems engineering and had one of those new asian salads from McDonalds for lunch. Took a seat next to an older fellow from North Carolina who was quite interested in American Idol. I think I made him mad when I commented on Kelly Pickler's miniscle vocabulary. He told me that Kelly is from a small town and thus hasn't been exposed to as much. I wanted to argue that it's because she's an idiot and not because she's sheltered. Case in point - I grew up in a town of under 4,000 and I toss around big words and can solve differential equations. Small town != idiot. Kelly Pickler = idiot. Took bus back to hotel, went to White Hen across street and bought an overpriced chicken sandwich that was promptly consumed after purchase. It fell between "decent" and "not bad" on the taste scale. Napped for 15 minutes then walked back to Water Tower place, where I obtained a pretzel, a new "city bag" (black messenger bag), and was made over at the Stila countered with lovely products that they didn't have on hand. Violet Convertible Eyecolor has been haunting my dreams since. Perhaps I'll need to find some of this before I leave Chicago.

Sunday: Woke up late and ended up having to take a cab to my session at McCormick. Unfortunately, it turns out my session was actually in the Hyatt adjacent and I ended up having to walk over a mile and a half back in the direction from where I had been in order to find my conference room. Showed up 10 minutes late, covered in sweat, breathless, and slightly irritated. Sat next to fellow that was in my class on Saturday and he greeted me with "You're following me." Later that day, he told me that I was "rude" when I told him about the ventilation course I took in college and that we referred to the teacher as "the hobbit" because of his big, white beard. Dude had it all wrong, I'm not rude and I wasn't following him. What would he know, he's from California!!! Speaking of people from California, when the day was over, I went to Navy Pier for a reception cruise of Lake Michigan and ended up spending the evening with a delightful crew from San Luis Obis. Joe is the safety guy, his brother Mark is adorable with glasses and floppy hair (just like I like 'em) and his wife Stephanie is my homegirl and I want to keep her. After the cruise, I took a cab to the Virgin Megastore down the street from my hotel and picked up a new journal for the road and a copy of Wilco's Kicking at Television...almost got Rebel without a Cause on a whim, but decided not to. Requested a copy of Revenge of the Nerds but they didn't have it. In my tipsiness, I must have looked quite dejected. Dejected enough for the guy to squeeze my shoulder and tell me that he was sure it'd be out en masse with special features in the future. I smiled like a simpleton when he said "speacial features." Stopped at Sayat Nova, the Armenian restuarant across the street on the walk back to the hotel. Visited with the cute fellow behind the bar for about 30 minutes while enjoying a beer and ordering/waiting for food. He signed my new road journal and gave me a card for one of his upcoming shows. Gotta love djs - that means he at least knows a bit about music. I'd say he's got pretty good taste based on the mediterranean mix he was playing in the restaurant. The music gave good atmosphere to the place yet had enough of a good beat to make me want to pay attention to what was playing. Well played.

Monday: Got to sleep in a bit, which is great as I didn't get makeup sleep this weekend. There should be a disclaimer on my profession about the morning hours. Among most of the things that make me want to hang up my safety glasses, it may be the early mornings that push me over the edge. I think I'll give this a bit more time and then go a PhD program. At least in a life of research, I'd get to ask more questions and then innovate a little bit. I'm so tired of just having to manage shit. I'm the kind of person that likes to ask why and then go find out. Talked to the U of I Chicago people Sunday on the cruise - I'd have to go full time in residency in Chicago, doing research in order to get a doctorate from them. I'm still considering this. And Cincinnati's program looks pretty sweet too. It may be cheaper to live in Cincinnati too...
Anyway, woke up and groomed and then went to wait for a shuttle down the street. After 10 minutes of waiting and realizing that with the other stops, I'd never get to my sessions in time, I hailed a cab and headed back to McCormick. Information in the Safety Management Program session was invaluable and the afternoon ergonomics sessions weren't too bad. Used my two hour lunch to eat an overpriced salad and then use the shuttle bus system to go to the Hilton Garden Inn across the street from Nordstrom. During "off peak" hours (10-2), the buses only run to two places, but I had to get away, so... Grabbed my complimentary beverage (Amstel Light) at the Exhibition Reception and then took the bus back to Ohio, where I then proceeded to hoof it over to the Esquire theater for a showing of The Notorious Betty Page. If I remember to, I'll speak about this film in greater detail later. It was a decent bio-pic and though provoking. But for now, I'll leave it with this line from the movie: "Adam and Eve were naked in the garden of Eden. It was only after they sinned that they put on clothes." Go see it if you're fortunate to live in an area that'd show such a film.
Stopped in Urban Outfitters, got a lock and key necklace and hailed a cab back to the hotel, where I ran across the street to round 3 of Burrito Beach (quesedilla today) and spent the evening in my room, underwear clad, watching Grey's Anatomy and balling my eyes out. "Stop looking at me!" And that's why Meredith Grey is my homegirl.

Tomorrow: Taking a bus tour of "The Untouchables" Chicago. All the Capone haunts, Dillinger, other infamous criminal types. I love it how I go do such fun things. Yacht trips on Lake Michigan (it had an open bar too, btw, and damn good white russians), Bus Tours of Gangster Era Chicago, Bettie Page...I bet you wish you were up with me and doing all of this too!

Selling the Lifestyle

I went into a Hollister for the first time this weekend. The vibe of the store is pretty cool, though I'd love to place a Quest (shameless endorsement of product) Dosimeter in one to see what the TWA for noise level exposure is. The thumping music was pretty rad, but I'm pretty sure they're out of compliance for noise exposure.

In addition to high prices and small sizes, I did notice that like Hot Topic and other stores, Hollister carries a wide array of magazines, cds and other accessories to accent the lifestyle promoted by the store. When did stores start selling the lifestyles to go along with the clothing? Fashion is ceasing to be a statement, but rather now a way of life. Does what we wear make us who we are?

And furthermore, if I decide to embrace the Hollister lifestyle and take up surfing, just where will I go to do it? ...in Illinois.

AWOL

I haven't stepped foot in my apartment since Friday morning when I left for work.

While walking out of work on Friday, I decided to call my parents because well, let's face it - talking to parents make everything better. We decided to meet in Lincoln for dinner, the second night in a row - what a treat. A huge plate of green beans and biscuits at CrackerBarrell and a spin around town later and I decided to eschew typical Cinco de Mayo festivities for an impromptu trip to Springfield. So I made a weekend of it and didn't even pack a bag.

Yesterday morning I was wandering around Dick's Sporting Goods getting some balls and other assorted items so I could play some impromtu golf on my impromtu trip. Of course I had my clubs with me - they're a permanent fixture in my car just in case I get the urge to play. But yeah, I had no clothes, so I went digging through the closet and ended up wearing a bubble gum pink shirt and a pair of mom-jeans. I adore mom jeans because they're so comfortable and for that way they give even the FUPA-less a FUPA. And did I mention the white sunglasses I was sporting. If Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen's street urchin sunglasses mated with Kanye West's bling sunglasses, this pair would be the unholy offspring.

Spent the weekend just hanging out - visiting with parents, watching tv and reading magazines, playing golf. I applied sunscreen everywhere except my left earlobe, which is now bright red. I look perpetually embarassed. Hit 3 over par on the 4th hole today though. And had as much fun driving the golf cart around as I did actually playing.

Returned to Peoria around 9 this evening, just in time for Grey's Anatomy. Meredith's "you broke it" speech to McDreamy had resonance. It was eloquent and truthful and a lot better than anything I muster. I feel very Meredith Grey some days. But (as I tell myself every Sunday night) it's all going to change...someday.

Out of work for 1.5 days this week - surgery on Tuesday. I'm excited though. I will absolutely, 100% be free of any form (pre-post-etc) of cancer. Don't get me wrong - I'm not happy about being poked and prodded on, but I'm jazzed about a healthy body.

Observations

1. Pulsing toothbrushes will scramble your brains while cleaning your teeth. They're almost not worth it.
2. People with a different ring tone for every person should be shot. Esp when one of those ringtones is "Gold Digger."
3. BYOB Restaurants are where it's at
4. I need a stronger alarm clock
5. Sharpening eye pencils is deceptively difficult



The 31 Days of Awesome Counter

Day 1: New golf clubs; sushi; new episode of "How I Met Your Mother"
Day 2: Day one of Transportation of Hazardous Goods training; trying out new clubs
Day 3: Gyro at the lunch cart on Adams Street; new golf shoes
Day 4: Dinner with Parents; snitzel strips, salad, 2x baked potato, tea. OMMMMMGGGG!

Top 5 Things I'm Excited about This Week

1. My new set of golf clubs.
2. Department of Transportation Hazardous Materials Transport Training
3. Tshirts from the Banana Republic
4. CINCO DE MAYO!
5. Chicago/Milwaukee - the week after next!


...Monday, Tuesday, Happy Days... this week is going to rock!

Da Bomb

By sheer chance, I happened upon the Peoria Emergency Response Expo this evening. The highlight of this was getting to check out the bomb squad robot and spend some time asking a bunch of questions about the bomb squad program, uses for the robot, the cost of such a rig ($200,000 including training and spare parts), and the average number of times the bomb squad is dispatched each year (about 30 - not well publicised). This was by far the coolest thing I did today. And now, when we have a jar of picric acid that's become dried out and unstable, I can call up the Peoria PD and ask for an officer by name. "Hi, remember me? The one with 30 questions? About that robot...we're gonna need it."

Back from Life

I had been typing this long and glorious post about my time in Kentucky and my newfound love of Coheed and Cambria and the Mars Volta. I mentioned my joy in being able to visit with sisters at the loveliest of formals and how buying that dress may have been the best thing I've done for myself all year. There was talk about feeling more alive than ever when feeling cool night area across my naked back and arms and wet sand between my toes. I do believe I spent a sizeable amount of time proclaiming my love for my friends. There was at least a paragraph on the sorrowful beauty that is "The Widow" by the Mars Volta and how this song resonates because it captures that feeling of being haunted.

But all of that was wiped when Firefox was closed.

Headed to Murray

My bags are packed, the tank is filled (ouch), and I'm up with anticipation about heading off to Murray. I'm rolling into town sometime tomorrow evening and partaking in the formal weekend festivities. Be expecting phone calls from the road asking to be entertained.

Top 5 Questions of the Day

1. What exactly does it mean when someone has listed "Random Play" in the Looking For: section on a facebook profile?

2. How kind I stop slicing when I drive a golf ball?

3. Why are people concerned with me understanding the source of their scarcity? And why am I up past midnight overanalyzing this? (That doesn't count as a fourth question, btw)

4. What kind of rod and reel should I get and where in my house shall I store it?

5. In which grocery store can I obtain pretzel bread so that I can make my own pretzel sandwiches at home? (Bonus question - what shall I pack for tomorrow's lunch?)

Pretty Much a Perfect Tuesday Evening

I left work around 5 this evening and hurried home to retrieve the UPS tag from the door so that I could arrange to run down to East Peoria and pick up my dress for formal. The dress...it's gorgeous. From there it was off to the indoor mall to pick up some "royal jelly" cream from Bath and Bodyworks. I'm a sucker for all things honey and have been infatuated with the new Savannah Beeswax line. After some mall crawling, I stopped by DiDough's Twisted Pretzels where I "rushed" the girls working there and got to try every flavor of slushy while waiting on the most awesome sammich ever: turkey and cheddar cheese between two pieces of pretzel bread garnished with lettuce, tomato, and "beer mustard." So, so good. Top it off with an ice cold hand shaken lemonade and a rerun of America's Next Top Model and a new Veronica Mars and that's what I call a great Tuesday.

That Wasn't So Bad, Was It

I've survived yet another weekend in downstate tiny.lake.town. I didn't run into anyone I used to know. However, I did make an appearance in one of the local newspapers. If you take a picture of yourself with a copy of the Breese Journal in some exotic location, they'll put it in the paper. It would be perversely funny to take pictures of myself with this small town rag and just periodically send them in. Look at me! I ventured outside of Clinton County and lived to tell about it? Where's my cookie? Where's Waldo? Waldo's at the Sear Tower...

On Friday, I went to the AB Brewery with my parents to take the tour. All these years living around St. Louis and never going to the brewery. I can't believe it took so long because the brewery tour was awesome. It has everything I love: pressure vessels, fermentation, generous complimentary beer samples and pretzel packets. Unfortunately, on my 2nd Budweiser Select, I became that person when the cup slid through my hands and onto the carpet. People are becoming less surprised when I drop stuff and make a scene. I can't even make it through 8 oz of beer before I'm making a scene these days. Learning all about the brewery process gave me a greater appreciation for beer and has piqued my interest in wanting to try out a little home brewing. I feel like I've just made a pilgrimage to someplace holy.

After touring the brewery, we went to the Science Center to check out the Titanic exhibit. Impeccible timing, it was, as we were there on the 95th anniversary of the ship striking the iceberg. It was odd to lay eyes on items that had been at the bottom of the ocean for nearly a century. The exhibit had corridors that were designed to replicate passageways and rooms from the ship as well as a put visitors in the middle of the grand staircase. After seeing this, not only do I have a greater appreciation to the magnitude and impact of the tragedy, but I can also better appreciate the attention to detail that went into the making of the 1997 Titanic movie. Upon entering the exhibit, we received boarding passes to the ship that had names and brief stories about the people on the ship. At the conclusion, we could reference the names on our boarding passes to the list of those lost and saved at sea. The name on my card was a 2nd class survivor. After I saw this, I took a seat on a bench and looked up and saw a quote on the exit wall that read "We are all passengers on the Titanic." An odd sense of relief washed over me.

Bark < Bite

On the way home from work this evening, I called my Dad to visit for a little while as my Dad is quite awesome and I'll just call him up to say hello. He told me that he couldn't talk long because he was at the emergency room.

(it went down sort of like this...)

"What happened?!?"
"I was bitten and I'm at the emergency room." (repeat from the statement that started it all)
"Who bit you?"
"Cliff's dog."
"Big dog?"
"Cliff's dog."
"What kind of dog?"
"...Pomeranian maltese mix. It's 12 years old. Cliff told me that I could stick my hand out so it could sniff me and the dog latched on to my hand."
"Did it get your left hand?" (he had surgery on his right hand a few months back)
"Yes."
"At least it didn't get the right hand. Now you have two bum hands?"
"I'm going to have to go in a minute. Paperwork."

He called back a few hours later and told me that the dog went after Cliff too. They both had their wounds cleaned out with alcohol, etc and were given tetanus shots. And then they went to Spaghetti Night at Angelos. Dad just chalks it up to another life experience. I chalk it up to yappy dogs being evil.

Plugged In

Sometime in the months that passed since the night I rushed my ailing laptop to Best Buy for repair, the laptop was recalled and I grew as a person by virtue of simply not having a computer so accessible.

I was without home computer from February 20 - April 11. In that time, I took up a new hobby, started feeling better about life with each passing day, and lost 6 lbs. I was forced to be more creative with passing time and learned to just stop waiting for life. I also gained a greater appreciation for buying an unlimited text messaging package as in that computer-less time, I've sent and received roughly 300 text messages. So now that the computer is back and the weather is warmer and it's lighter longer and all of this wonderful stuff, how am I spending my free time? Well, I'm blogging right now and earlier I was putting information thought to be lost back on my new computer (which is like my old one, but faster and cooler - it has a tv tuner and fingerprint data protection). Tomorrow I'm driving down to St. Louis for Easter. If it weren't for my folks wanting to see my replacement rig, I'd leave it up here as I'm growing accustomed to a life without zombification via computer screen.

Here is the portion of this entry where I could be complaining about how long it took to get a replacement computer, but instead, I'll say this about my experience at Best Buy yesterday afternoon: I tried to have eye sex with a floppy haired, bespectacled boy wearing a hoodie and a tshirt with some witty saying on it and then I contemplated getting some Stereophonics cds. After that, I made arrangements to pick up my laptop after the data transfer had been completed and then went good will store hunting and grabbed a bite to eat before returning a few hours later to triumphantly claim my new sweet computer. And that was pretty much it.

All Hail the Open Road

This weekend I road tripped down to see the folks and participate in Trivia Night to raise money for the school. Our table won 3rd place, and we gave the prize money back to the school. The people that won 2nd and 1st, however, did not (boo!). Call me righteous, but I think that if you participate in a fundraising event and win, you should give the money back to the cause. Of course, the money went toward bettering my mother's school so you can see my bias on this issue, but I think regardless, I'd still feel the same.

Although it's only about a 90 mile drive, a lot can happen on the open road. This evening, I actually got to experience a "what if" situation I had once spent some time pondering...

So I'm driving up I-55 and I see something drop in front of the radio. I turned my head to get a better visual confirmation - something better than a glance out of the corner of my eye. And there it was... a brown spider! Oh no of nos, what do I do. It was still on the console, crawling over my badge, coins, and assortment of lip glosses (Cargo Kalamazoo, Nars Orgasm, American Beauty Watermelon Crush). I break out in a cold sweat, wondering what I do when it jumps over on me and brandishes its gigantor fangs. Traffic was a bit dense and quick moving, so I pushed the spider out of my mind for a few minutes as to get away from the lumber truck in front of me. And then I couldn't see the spider anymore. So I spent the rest of the trip back to Peoria periodically slapping myself in attempt to get the imaginary spider. A little while later, after arriving back at my abode, I saw a spider (same one? I don't know, they all look alike) and killed it. There - piece of mind.

This afternoon I also became reaquainted with the Reverend Horton Heat. Digging through the console, I came across my copy of Holy Roller, the 1999 compilation of songs on both record labels the band's been on. My favorite tracks include "Wiggle Stick," "Where the Hell Did You Go With My Toothbrush?," "One Time for Me," and a nifty cover of "Folsom Prison Blues." If you like good, dirty rock and roll, check out this cd. But listen to it with the car on cruise control, this is drive-fast-music.

Changing Tastes

In the movie "Runaway Bride," there is this running question of how Julia Robert's character likes her eggs...and the answer is always that she likes them the same way of the man she's engaged to. Ultimately it's revealed that the reason for this is because she doesn't really know who is she or what she's like. The way one likes (or dislikes) their eggs must be indicative of one's sense of self?

I think this is true for beers. A person has their beer. But then they meet someone else and start drinking the same beer of the SO. It could be constant drinking of this beer, social drinking of this beer. It's justified, saying things like "well, I've always liked this, but had forgotten about it," and "it was cheap beer on special." Would said beer even have been given the time of day if it hadn't been for the influence of the other person?

I will admit to having fallen victim to this form of mimicking...choking down several watery bottles of Coors Light. However, I just couldn't do it. It's not who I am. Or is it that I'm just resistant to being changed by relationships? But this can't be true as every relationship changes us. Regardless of it ending happily ever after or going down in a flaming spiral, once we decide to love someone, date someone, exist in someone's sphere of influence, we're forever changed. (This goes along with my asertment that love is indeed a true chemical reaction.) Our world is opened up to new and exciting beers. We broaden our horizons. We strengthen our resolve to only drink real beer.

So if all of the aforementioned is an indication of who we are, then analyze this: I like Budweiser. Not Bud Light. Budweiser. And I love a good Guiness. In a pint glass. And my eggs, nothing less than over easy.

Wide-Eyed is All I Can Do

I caught a glimpse of myself in a plateglass window and realized that when I'm "into" someone, all I can really do is look at them all wide-eyed. It's a combination of the facial expressions I do when shopping at Sephora, ordering cheesecake, buying shoes, looking at tools at Sears, and anticipating really good news...and have just been given a keg of really good beer.

There are all of these words in the English language that are used to describe a person trolling for booty. Lusty. Randy. Horny. Aroused. But why is it so hard to sum up in a single word what a person is feeling when they've got it for someone. I'm talking the kind of got it when someone realizes that their entire existence would be made by being able to walk up to him and put the head under his chin. The kind when talking to him makes you realize that all the tears shed over the unworthy were pointless because there are much better men out there. It's the kind of feeling when you really want to get to know a person and let everything else that comes along with it just fall into place.

But my big issue is now knowing what to do other than being wide-eyed. It's so easy to aggressively seek things - promotions, positions of power, etc, but how does one aggressively seek matters of the heart? The biggest problem with free will is that you can't *make* others want to reciprocate feeling. I'm scared of coming on too strong but at the same time I know that I have to put myself out there and send signals...it's a fine line to walk. The more I think about it, this person has pretty much everything I think is awesome in another human being. And if it works, that's awesome because I'm pretty sure this boy would be one of the greats. And we all know how I adore the greats. But until I figure out just what to do, I'll continue to look at him like he's a rack of Craftsmen tools at Sears.*



*Though on direction of Allison, my very own personal Hitch, I'm to be girlie around this boy, so I'll look at him like a display of Nars lipstick at Sephora.

Wicked Wednesday

This morning, I woke up to an unusually bright bedroom and feeling very odd about an evening of vivid and lurid dreams just experienced. I won't go into too much detail about it, but all experienced in dreamland was an amalgum of retail, bear fights, and other sensations. Upon first waking, I was thinking of the ocean but soon realized that the sound of running water was actually my private bath toilet running wild. Call Father Marin - we need an exorcism.

Actually, part of the flushing mechanism is going out and water is being pulled down because there's not a good seal. One of these days, I'll stop trying to fix it myself and call the maintenance person. Until then, I try to make it stop and have actually shouted at the toilet to "shut up!" This is even more futile and ridiculous than that time a frog got into my apartment and I opened the front door and shouted at it to "get out of my house!" while pointing at the door. The frog just looked at me like "yo, I'm a frog, this is funny."

Two more days of work...and this afternoon, I made five different slide shows. I'm almost as tired of powerpoint as I am of hearing myself speak. Sometimes I want to splice in questionable pictures and sayings (Only safety glasses can protect you from a Chuck Norris roundhouse kick to the face!) for the slideshows that other people will be using but don't actually look at before presenting. However, I never get tired of coloring my opinon of the science of beating the odds with offbeat and grim anecdotes. Or trading stories about people getting shot in the eyes with lasers. Or talking about killing critters with gardening tools, smoking out groundhogs...

I had an engineer approach me and tell me that he had a safety issue because there was a mouse in the console room.

"There's a mouse in the console room."
"Well did you kill it?"
"No."
"Did you catch it?"
"..."
"You want me to go down there and get it for you? Just give me a minute and I'll be down there with a broom."
"Um...can I put in a Safety Observation."
"Just put in a Safety Work Order. Call WGI helpdesk and tell them you need someone to get rid of a mouse for you."
"What if it chews through my wires?"
"That's why you call someone to get rid of it for you."

I'll admit - it would have been funny to have gone after a mouse with a broom. It would be akin to that time with the consulting firm when we had wasps in the financial office and I had to go in after them with a can of bug spray and a fly swatter. And after the wasps had been terminated, I had to climb under a desk to retrieve the bodies because the boss wouldn't be satisfied until she saw the dead wasp bodies.

After work, I went home with every intention of working out, but cereal and America's Next Top Model got the best of me. Veronica Mars isn't too bad of a show either. Kristen Bell is pretty hot too, but I read in Maxim that she has a "wonky" eye and she's also a Detroit Red Wings fan...not too sure we can work with that. Did some mild tidying to the house and pen and ink drawing before taking out the trash and breathing in the soy-corn-fermentation scented air (it smells like beer. a lot) and sitting in my car. I just sat out in the parking lot in my car for a good five minutes, enjoying the new car smell still retained and the cold night air. It's been months since I've had such an enjoyable time just chilling out in a car. No radio, no company, no nothing. Just me and the cool night air. And then one of the best songs ever, Sophie B. Hawkin's "Damn, Wish I was Your Lover" as I pulled into the garage. Bills for the mail in the front passenger seat, new bottle of water ready for tomorrow's commute, an old favorite mix cd queued up in the dash...I think I'm ready to face one more day.

Anger is Easy

Ever notice how people want to act pissed off and throw stuff around after they've hit their hand with a hammer?

After much deliberation, I've decided that it's easier to feel anger than any other emotion. Most anger is irrational and thoughtless. It's more socially acceptable to be angry. When's the last time there's been a great movie about people just sitting around being sad? It's all about the anger and the resulting kill crazy rampage that follows. There are no good sorrow movies, but there are several really, really good ones about anger and revenge.

Lately I've tried to be angry and go with it. It's easier than wallowing in the overwhelming sense of defeat that swallows me about three times a day. Today, I was told that I look "down and out." Well, honestly? I am. Today is actually the first day in one month and six days that I've not cried at least once. Today? Not a single tear. And it's because I've committed to just being angry.

I used to think about what I would do when it eventually happened and could never really come up with a good plan as the whole prospect was just so freakin' inconceivable. It would have been easier to conceptualize a massive blast of solar radiation from the sun frying the earth than it was to know what life would be like after. So...I guess maybe the denial stage of the stages of loss/grief/etc was kicking in on that one. That must mean that then came the depression...and the grief over my inability...to just be. And the cursing...curse me and my complicated ways. Me with my multisyllabic, odd name that can't be found on "customized" toothbrushes and pens. Me with my degree in the physical sciences, big boobs, and authoritative position in this "upwardly mobile" life I'm trying to build for myself. Me with my wanderlust, graceful clumsiness, and curious ways. Me with my rogue reproductive system. Me. But why be angry with myself when it's so much easier to be angry with other people. Granted, logic says that anger should be directed at the situation, for if there's any deserving party, it's the situation. But anger defies logic, you see, so fingers certainly cannot be pointed at the deserving party.

I want to be angry. I really, really do. But the oddest thing happened - I committed myself to anger but when faced with the entity at which I want to direct my rage, I can't be angry. I'm enjoying myself too much to be mad. I never saw this coming...unexpected outcomes. Then again, I never thought I'd feel progressively worse about something with each passing day - wtf with that? But yeah, I want to roar and rage and rampage, but I fear I just don't have it in me. And though it's in my nature to want to lash out (similar to the manner an injured animal does) when hurt, I get distracted and laugh and have fun. I genuinely enjoy myself. Perhaps deep down I know that anger will get me nowhere. Deep down I know that sometimes shit just happens. The philosophy of there being no good and no bad, just what's there and it's all in what we make of a situation...appreciating the cards we've been dealt. Deep down I know that I don't really have a good reason to feel so bad...there are the greats and then there are the best of what's there. And then there are situations where being the best of what's there is like being the smartest kid with down's syndrome. What about that is worth mourning over? At least no one's dead.

...except for the Monday Night Girl. I think she's lost and gone forever, but where's the loss in that?

Damn Thursday

I started my morning, waking up oddly refereshed for it being 1 am and then proceeded to lie in bed and watch part of a Discovery Channel documentary on volcanoes before going through the morning routine of washing, drying, straightening, painting, perfuming, and dressing before driving into work.

The way the streets always seem to glisten and the stoplights can be seen clear down the road tend to give the middle of the night a certain uncharacterizable charm. This is probably the only time of the day that can be as interesting at the end of waking hours as it is at the begining. Even the radio stations play better music at night. Usually, I try to find the old "AM Gold" standards - Moody Blues, Three Dog, etc, but this morning it was all about the hair-rock. Can't really recall the song on the radio, but can tell you that it was one that inspired me to think of the last time in the middle of the night, I kicked back and enjoyed the radio. Sitting on couches, somewhere in Kentucky, listening to "Sweet Child of Mine" and marveling over the GuitarGod known as Slash. The night is always conducive to etching even the most mundane into the brain.

So here I am, sitting at my desk in what is now almost my 4th hour at work. Considering hopping in the car and driving into town for a real (unhealthy) breakfast and a newspaper and a good view of the sun rising. Today I must remain in motion for if I stop, it'll be too tempting to sleep. Under the desk? Out in my car? In the bathroom? There are very few good options for refuge from the waking world. And too many options for thought. I think I think too much. I think I need to decide what all to see and do while back up in Chicago for the weekend. I think I need to go get some breakfast.

Yet Another 5 Things That Rock My World

1. Super Troopers. Every time I watch this movie, I notice something different. Did you know that when Thorny's about to ask the freaky-deaky Germans "Who wants a moustache ride?" he's holding a bundle of bananas? WTF?

2. The 355 Tollway. I never thought I'd be so excited to pay money to drive on a road. Then again, watching a Thunder Chicken smoking, flaming, and shooting oil all over the place on the side of the road made it pretty cool too. I never thought I'd be so excited about watching a cock-car go up.

3. Thymes Kimono Rose. This weekend at C.O. Bigelow, I picked up the Kimono Rose bath set, consisting of bath wash, body cream, bath salts, and a roller perfume. The scent is reminiscent of circa 1999 Anna Sui perfume. I have this thing about perfume and lately, I've had a thing about rose scented things.


4. Green Beer. The goodness of beer with all the fun of having a mouth stained an odd color. It also invokes statements such as "You know it's like...blabbity blah blah, fuck you green beer."


5. "A prayer for the wild at heart, kept in cages." - Tennessee Williams

Chasing Windmills

I went looking for this on Saturday.

Katie and I hopped in the Canyonero 2.0 and took off up a country road in search of fun, adventure, and racetracks. Fourteen hours later we returned with road stories, cheesecake, and photographs. But alas, no momentos from the racetrack because we couldn't find it. Three hours driving around Kane, McHenry, and Cook County...no luck.

But we did find windmills. Lots of them.

There are a couple of wind farms in the counties north of here. I haven't seen such a sight since the last time I was out in California to visit my aunt. Unlike the ones out there, it's possible to get really close to the ones here. They're almost creepy looking up close. Tall, sterile, made of steel...Katie wondered what would happen if the windmill field were hit by a tornado. I tried to explain how they generate energy, but I realized mid-explanation that I couldn't recall all of the intracacies of how they function.

After having driven around for a few hours trying to find the track, Katie made mention of the windmills and how driving around looking for something that likely wasn't there was like "chasing windmills." Except we actually found windmills. And like Quixote, I had Katie, as my Sancho Panza verbally expressing doubts of my sanity over being so tenacious about searching for something. But couldn't it be considered admirable to never give up? Or like (as lately it seems) most things in my life, am I merely trying in vain to wish my little heart out for something that's just not there.

...I'm going to go look for that track again...

We're Not Gonna Protest!

My company gets protested periodically because we made the tractors that are the Israel Defense Forces bulldozers, which are used to knock down buildings in the West Bank and Gaza Strip. This week, some protesters went downtown where they waived signs, blaming Cat for the deaths of peace protestors and demanded the company stop selling D9 dozers to Israel. Claims that it is unethical to sell equipment that would be used for such a purpose are being made. This claim has been countered with the statement that Cat does not possess right or ability to interfere with the way product is used after it's purchased.


Story from WEEK News about this week's protest:

Group Protests Caterpillar
Mar 16, 2006 - National and local political activists rallied in front of the Caterpillar's headquarters in downtown Peoria Thursday.

They say they want the company to stop selling bulldozers to an Israeli military that uses them to knock down Palestinian homes.

The protest comes on a third anniversary of the death of a 23-year old American activist Rachel Corrie who was run over by an Israeli soldier driving a Caterpillar bulldozer.

Joe Carr with the International Solidarity Movement said, "Caterpillar Corporation is fully aware of what Israel is using their equipment to do. They know that Israel is systematically violating Palestinian rights, destroying homes, annexing lands and killing people. So therefore, they are enabling Israeli war crimes and they must held responsible for their actions."

According to the police, four arrests were made, after the protesters attempted to lie on Adams street covered with fake blood. The protest blocked traffic for some time over the lunch hour.

Caterpillar issued a written statement today, saying that it "fully complies with all local, U.S. and international laws and policies governing sales of its products around the world, including the U.S. foreign Military Sales Program."



Corporate Statement on Global Unrest

Middle East
"For the past four years, activists have wrongly included Caterpillar in a publicity campaign aimed at advancing their much larger political agendas. Over that same period of time, we've repeatedly evaluated our position - as have our shareholders - and determined that while the protests occasionally succeed in gaining headlines, they neither change the facts nor our position.

"As a well-respected and responsible global citizen, Caterpillar fully complies with all local, U.S. and international laws and policies governing sales of our products around the world, including the U.S. Foreign Military Sales Program. In addition, we clearly have neither the legal right nor the tangible ability to regulate how customers use their machines.

"While it's disappointing that a small number of activists continue to use our international visibility, leadership and reputation to draw attention to their cause, we have no intention of participating in a debate that appears aimed not at our company, but at the policies established and controlled by the governments of the United States and Israel."

Beware! The Ides of March

Nothing overly spectacular happenened on this 15th of March. I arranged for there to be a take cover drill at work, which was great because a) I wasn't around for it and b) it's great to bellow "beware the ides of march" when people ask when the next one will be. I could go on a power trip over being able to make such a productivity-wrecking event occur, but I'm rather indifferent. The real power trip could come from having people ask when they'll be and me refusing to tell them...

My biggest trauma of the day was just a few minutes ago, as I sat in black bertha and watched yet another episode of Sex and the City, shaking my head and saying aloud "Oh, it's so true. So, so true..." Next thing I know, I'll be saying "It's like on that one episode of SATC where..." Oh wait, I pulled that one last weekend, likening that moment that I refused to play nice and be friends with someone's new girlfriend to when Miranda didn't finish decorating Debbie's cupcakes. And then last night when Jennifer and I were talking about that episode where Miranda pretends to be a flight attendent to get dates. For the record, she is going to play a nurse and I'll feign librarian. Because librarians are hot...because they can read (obvi!).

Tonight, I engaged in witty banter and mild flirting with the barista through the orderbox while getting a strawberry frappuchino. It was good times, being haranged over my disdain for whipped cream on my drink. However, I could sense a bit of mutual disappointmen when I pulled up to the window and our eyes met. That's probably the fastests I've ever had a male lose interest - the span of two cars. At least he reconstitutes a good frappuchio and knows when the heck not to put whipped cream on a beverage.